To My Lady’s Stocking

Stocking! I envy you your world of fun,For wherever you please you may run,While I can only gaze and pine,And wish your rapturous world were mine.

You loose a thread, and woe is me,You play about her lovely knee;You run a trifle down her limbTo sport about her ankle trim.

In wanton glee you scamper highAnd touch the border of her thigh;Around her calf you gallivant—The thing I’d do, but find I can’t.

So playfully, so on you goTo dally ’round her dainty toe;And then in thrilling ecstacyYou climb again. Ah me! Ah me!